


Of Doctors and Nurses

by blown_transistor



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blown_transistor/pseuds/blown_transistor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with with her low-cut dress and his wandering eye. It ended with a patient dying on his operating table and a sudden departure. </p>
<p>Fast forward almost two decades. An accidental click on social media and a bowl of (vegan friendly) soup brought them into each other's orbits again. How will it end this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

** Prologue **

****

****

_There’s a note underneath your front door_

_That I wrote twenty years ago._

_Yellow paper and a faded picture_

_And a secret in an envelope._

_There’s no reasons, no excuses._

_There’s no secondhand alibis,_

_Just some black ink on some blue lines,_

_And a shadow you won’t recognize_

_In the meantime, I’ll be waiting_

_For twenty years, twenty more._

_I’ll be praying for redemption_

_And your note underneath my door…_

****

**February 1997**

**Baltimore, Maryland**

 

Not-Quite-Doctor Frederick Chilton walked into the restaurant near Johns Hopkins campus that he frequented with a packet of papers and a medical textbook under his arm. It was Tuesday. They were never busy on Tuesdays. He could have a scotch and study in peace at the bar. He raised an eyebrow when he spotted a new addition to the hostess staff at the old Italian restaurant. As the second hostess, the one he remembered, greeted him, he studied the new face in passing. With her long, dark hair, thin frame, and almost overdone throwback mid-Sixties makeup, he prayed that she was over eighteen. It’d be a crime if those D-cups couldn’t be admired without a prison sentence. He’d never been truly tempted by the possibility of jail bait, but the way the mystery girl stared at him? Dear lord…

 

Two hours later, he looked up from his textbook and saw the more experienced hostess grab her purse from a cabinet by the door to the kitchen and wave goodbye to the bartender. He noticed the hostess with the great rack approach the same cabinet and remove a biochemistry textbook with some papers sticking out of it and her purse just as the bartender announced last call.

Paying his tab, he slowly gathered his winter coat and study materials and exited the restaurant. Once he was outside, he couldn’t help but notice Miss D-Cups fidgeting with her jacket zipper while the cold winter wind whipped her hair around her face. He turned to walk toward her instead of his car when he heard her let out a grunt of frustration. “May I be of some assistance?” he drawled, putting a hand on the small of her back.

She let out a gasp and jumped at the unexpected contact, spinning around to face the voice. “It’s you,” she breathed through a sigh of relief. Tiffany, her trainer, warned her about this man offering help’s reputation the second he was out of earshot. He flirted with every single female employee of the restaurant that looked like she could be a co-ed. Rumor had it that he was from some old money, Johns Hopkins legacy material. After all, no med student Tiffany had ever seen wore Armani suits and ordered thirty dollar glasses of eighteen-year-old single malt. At the moment, Tiffany could go to hell. She was outside in the freezing cold, and her jacket zipper broke an inch above her waist. “Uh…” she trailed off in the hopes of getting a name from this handsome stranger with a reputation.

“Frederick. Frederick Chilton.” With one fluid motion, he captured her right hand in his and brought it to his lips. He pressed a gentlemanly kiss to the back of her gloved hand.

She ducked her head and blushed. “A-Alyssa Sutton. And unless you’re a tailor or something, I don’t think there’s much you can do for me. My coat zipper broke.”

_Yes it certainly did_. Frederick’s eyes lingered on her exposed, pale cleavage. “It’s well below freezing, Alyssa. How are you getting home?”

She shivered. “I live on campus at Johns H-Hopkins. The shuttle will be around here any minute.”

“Nonsense,” Frederick blurted, pressing a button on the remote for his car. “I’ll drive you, if you’ll allow me. I’ll be a medical doctor in three months, and the last thing I want is for you to catch cold.”

Alyssa opened her mouth to protest, until she saw the lights flash on a late model BMW coupe in a nearby parking place. Sure, it was possible that a serial killer could drive a nice car, but this guy was too cute. Right? That guy from _Forever Knight_ was delectable, but also a vampire… She’d cough on his dashboard just in case. Someone from the restaurant had to have seen her get into his car. They could match DNA.

“Don’t make me insist.”

The brunette wrapped her coat around her as best as possible. “I don’t want to make you go out of your way.”

“The shuttle will drop you off around the corner from your dorm. It’s too cold for that.” He held his hands in the surrender position. “I’m not some criminal.”

Clutching her purse and books to her chest, she hung back while he opened the black door of the car. She slid into the seat and her skirt rode up her legs, bringing them into contact with the frigid leather.

“Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for this car to warm up,” he assured, turning the engine over.

She shivered as she gave him the name of her dorm. Dropping her belongings onto her lap, she rubbed her hands together in an attempt to get warm.

“Biochem?” Frederick questioned, noticing the blank study guide she’d pulled out of the book. “What are you majoring in?”

“Biology with a chemistry minor.”

“Plans for grad school?”

“Nursing school,” she beamed. “I want to go full R.N., nothing less.”

He shifted the sports car back into first at the stoplight. “You know, I could help you study…”

“I’m off tomorrow.” He was most certainly full of himself and definitely creepy. He was three months away from graduating med school, meaning he was twenty-five or six at the youngest, and she was two months away from turning nineteen. …But he was hot. And she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. “I can meet you at the coffee shop in the library.”

“I’ll be there,” he practically purred.


	2. Chapter One

_Hello, it’s me_

_I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet_

_To go over everything._

_They say that time’s supposed to heal ya,_

_But I ain’t done much healing._

_Hello, can you hear me?_

_I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be_

_When we were younger and free._

_I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet…_

****

** Present Day (one year post-“The Wrath of the Lamb”) **

 

Settling back down onto the modern-styled sofa with a glass of French chardonnay, Frederick Chilton turned on his large television and began scrolling through the channel guide. Of course, there was absolutely nothing on that he wanted to watch. He thought about checking his DVR, but it was August. None of the shows he frequently recorded were currently airing new episodes. Just as he was about to switch to Netflix, his phone pinged twice.

A Facebook message. And a friend request.

The psychiatrist’s heart leapt into his throat when he realized who’d added him as a friend – _her_. The girl he’d made the dumb social media account over in the first place after seeing her doppelganger working as a hostess at the same restaurant she did once upon a time close to the Johns Hopkins campus. He almost called the hostess _her_ name before remembering it wasn’t the Nineties anymore.

Of course, he hadn’t added her as a friend. He was too pathetic. It didn’t help she’d gone from the coy twenty-one-year-old he knew from his aborted surgical residency and final year at Johns Hopkins Medical School to the type of nurse usually reserved for his fantasies. Her current profile picture was of her lying in some tall grass and laughing while a lion cub licked her face. He knew it was Africa for the same reason that he knew she’d been working with U.N.I.C.E.F. there for the past eighteen months following the disillusion of her marriage – he’d been stalking her Facebook since the day he’d seen her doppelganger a year earlier.

He clicked to open the message and let out a shaky breath.

“ _Frederick Chilton as I live and breathe! I haven’t seen you in oh god… Not since you changed specialties. God, I was twenty-one. How in the world are you? I see you’re back in Baltimore, too. I’ve been back from Africa for a week, and my dance card is full for the next month. I’d love to catch up. I could even bump my great-aunt for you._ ”

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. How had she found him? How had she… He brought up her profile _again_ , and the answer made itself clear instantly. He’d _liked_ her last post. He’d clicked that stupid little thumbs up icon by mistake. He really was his own worst enemy.

His thumbs hovered helplessly above the screen. What was he supposed to say? He was little more than a year removed from Dollarhyde turning him into a rolling flambé. The extensive surgeries had restored most of what the fire had burned away (well, apart from the damage done by Miriam Lass’s bullet), but the scars were still there. The best plastic surgeons around did their best, but there were still lines around his lips that didn’t used to be there. He didn’t need to point out the long scars on his limbs from being glued to the wheelchair. Not to mention the wig. She wouldn’t want to see him.

But he knew that on her end, she could see that he’d read her message. He had to reply with something.

“ _It’s been quite a long time, certainly. As much as I would love to catch up as well, I’ve had some health issues recently. Rain check?_ ”

A rain check he’d never cash.

Almost as quickly as he’d hit send, a reply came.

“ _Frederick, I’m a nurse. I’m immune to almost everything now, either by vaccination or by catching the damn bug. Unless you’ve got Ebola. If it’s Ebola, I’ll stay away. I can stop by your place, bring you some soup or something. I was in a really bad car accident about ten years ago. Broken femur and broken hip. I was cooped up forever, especially when I couldn’t get anywhere under my own steam. I know how much having a visitor can help, if you’ll allow me._ ”

He almost sobbed. The only people who’d come to visit him in his long recovery were Jack Crawford and Will Graham. They visited out of guilt, not out of genuine concern for his well-being. But a woman he hadn’t seen in nearly two decades genuinely wanted to see him. Before he could stop himself, he’d sent his address.

After reading her next reply of “ _I’m actually out right now, but should be home within the next hour. I’ll make some soup and head over. How does seven sound? Any foods I should avoid?_ ”, he actually managed a smile. He replied that due to illness, he had trouble digesting animal proteins before abandoning his wine and running upstairs. He hadn’t run this quickly since discovering Abel Gideon’s body in the guest room two floors below several years earlier. Entering his master bathroom, he caught sight of his disgusting reflection in the mirror. He squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t open them again until his wig covered him. He sauntered toward his large closet and stepped inside the walk-in.

Just as his hand closed around the shoulder of a dark brown pinstripe suit, he froze. He’d told her he had health problems. What would she think if he showed up to the door in a suit? He wasn’t about to answer the door in pajamas. So, he turned to the other side of his closet and after much fussing around, chose a pair of dark blue jeans and a navy button down shirt. He decided against a tie and slid on his signet ring and smart boat shoes. Looking down at his watch, he realized he had an hour to wait.

 

Alyssa Sutton pulled into the driveway that led to the rather impressive house and pulled the key out of the ignition of her red Audi. “Frederick’s done well,” she observed aloud, grabbing the large Tupperware bowl full of the tofu chicken noodle soup she’d made and a thick book full of New York Times crossword puzzles. Shoving the keys to the car and her phone into her small cross-body purse, she took the steps up to his frosted glass front door two at a time. She took a deep breath and smoothed down her teal sundress before ringing the doorbell.

_Doctor_ Frederick Chilton (or just plain Frederick Chilton as she knew him when they met) was a smarmy, well-dressed man with old money to burn two decades ago. They’d been…something once upon a time. Something more serious than “friends with benefits”, but not as serious as an actual relationship. She still had the strand of pearls he’d given her one Christmas. In fact, she was currently wearing them. She had to be nuts to be here. Maybe it was the time difference between sub-Saharan Africa and Maryland.

She took a deep breath when she heard the frosted glass door unlatching, and grinned when she saw the face of an old friend. He still looked pretty much the same as he did in the late Nineties, just with more lines on his face, some scars. And there was something different about his mouth. He was still handsome, to her at least. _Oh boy._ “Hi,” she whispered, sucking the corner of her lower lip between her teeth. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say next.

“H-Hi yourself,” Frederick echoed, stepping aside and motioning for her to come in.

Once he shut the door behind her, Alyssa handed him the container of soup and toed off her sandals before sweeping her long, sandy hair up into a ponytail. “As a nurse, I recommend chicken noodle soup, but since you can’t have chicken, that’s tofu.” She followed him into the large, stark kitchen and took in the harsh angles of the interior design.

“It’s very kind of you.” Simultaneously sliding the soup into the fridge and the bottle of chardonnay he’d opened out, he shuddered. Once upon a time, this built-in fridge had been spattered in blood… “Wine?” he offered, pushing the memory down.

“I’d love some, thank you!” She watched him set the chilled bottle on the island and remove the appropriate type of wine glass from one of the cabinets. “Oh, before I forget,” she began, setting her purse on the opposite counter. “I picked this up for you while I was at the store.”

He poured her a glass before refilling his. “Oh?” Soup _and_ a present? Had he died in his sleep and somehow made it to heaven?

“I… Sometimes there’s only so much television you can watch, especially during the day when the only thing that’s on are reruns of cop dramas and soap operas. And I remembered that you liked doing crossword puzzles…”

Truth be told, he did like doing crossword puzzles. The only reason he did them in her presence was so that he could lean over her shoulder and compare his (correct) answers to hers…and get a great look at her breasts. But still, the simple gift was beyond touching.

“What shall we drink to?”

She picked up the glass meant for her and held it out to him. “To…unexpected and long-overdue reunions?”

The last time he’d asked her that, her answer was “To your long and distinguished career in psychiatry”. “Long” was yet to be determined. As far as “distinguished”? He wouldn’t mention that. “I’ll drink to that.” Despite his utter terror at the entire situation, he couldn’t help but smile as the rims of their glasses clinked together. “Living room? I have a feeling you’ll be much more comfortable in there.”

She nodded and motioned for him to lead the way. The dark couch set against the white wall and grey stone floor made for a striking room...and suddenly she wished it were winter at the sight of the large, ornate fireplace across the room. At his wordless invitation, she sat down facing him with her legs demurely tucked up under her. Alyssa inhaled the crisp, fruity smell of the undoubtedly expensive chardonnay to buy her time to think about what to say next. She smiled subtly when she noticed him doing the same thing.

“So…Africa!”

“You have a lovely home, Frederick.”

Both Frederick and Alyssa laughed after speaking at the same time.

“Yours first,” she asserted, putting her glass down onto the coffee table. Leaning against the back of the couch, she twirled a piece of her ponytail around her finger.

His eyes never left hers as she described the nature of her work, the people she met and helped, the amazing animals she saw, and the perspective-changing experiences she had while abroad. She was just as bubbly as she’d been all those years ago. At one point, she jogged back into the kitchen to get her phone to show him pictures she hadn’t uploaded to social media. He instinctively backed away a bit when she sat back down closer to him and began scrolling through a sub-folder of pictures. Her words faded away when he caught a whiff of her sugary perfume. Noticing the insignia on the gold tag at the clasp of her pearls, he bit back a whimper. Those were the ones he gave her the first Christmas he’d known her. He wished he was half the man he was two decades ago. They wouldn’t be at his house. They’d be out at an expensive restaurant…

“The only thing I’m sorry about,” she began, snapping him back to the present “is that it took me being married to my scum-of-the-earth ex-husband for six years and spending a year in divorce court to get my act together and volunteer.” Looking up into his vibrant green eyes, she smiled before noticing a fleck of some manner of lint on his face. She reached up to brush it away, only to be met with him violently jerking away. While she managed to save the wine glass, she couldn’t save the contents that now covered part of his floor. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…”

He jumped off the sofa and ran into the kitchen to fetch a towel. “I… Don’t worry about it. It’s my fault,” he insisted as he dropped awkwardly to his knees and mopped up the white wine. “I’ll go downstairs and get another bottle.”

Alyssa cocked an eyebrow. “Do you have a wine cellar, Frederick?”

“I… Yes.”

Putting her glass down safely on the coffee table, she quickly stood and offered him a hand up. “Can I see?” she asked playfully. “Thanks to you, I managed to develop quite an expensive palette.”

Frederick swallowed hard. Did he take her down to where Gideon died? She had to know about that. She had to know what he’d been accused of. She had to know what happened with Dollarhyde. Had she also developed a taste for the macabre with her wine preferences? The only reason he was still in this god-forsaken house was the fact that he couldn’t sell it without disclosing what had happened. And even then, the only people that would buy it would open some shrine in the house. Like he’d ever let that happen… “You know what happened here, right? You know what happened to me?”

“I watch the news, yes,” she admitted reluctantly, gesturing for him to take her helping hand. When he accepted her assistance reluctantly, she pulled him up and didn’t let go of his hand. “But that’s not why I’m here, Frederick. I hope you know me better than that. I’ve gained weight, gained and lost a husband, but I haven’t changed _that_ much.” She shed the tan cardigan covering her shoulders, tossed it onto the sofa, and held out her arms. “Do you want to search me for some hidden camera or something? It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked, after all.”

“I…No.” He waved away her unnecessary offer. “I’m sorry.” He started walking toward the stairs to the basement, gasping when her fingers curled around the crook of his elbow. The simple touch brought back memories of his med school and residency days where he’d used her as a date for various social gatherings (after buying her an expensive dress and several hours at the best salon in Baltimore before each one). She’d entered many rooms on his arm just like this, but this time felt like he was doing this for the first time as he led her down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, her gaze (and her jaw) immediately fell at the sight of the glass-walled wine cellar. Either she was telling the truth or the most gifted actress he’d ever met, he decided when he caught her amazement. Maybe he did still have one friend left in the world.

“I’m almost sorry I promised my brother that I’d be back to work in his practice tomorrow,” she laughed, searching for a label she recognized. “You and I could potentially get into a lot of trouble and talk all night…again.”

Frederick smiled awkwardly, guiding her inside. “We could, but I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your position with your brother on your first day back.”

“He’s my brother. He’d forgive me,” Alyssa grinned. “But you’re right. First day back at a job where they’re paying me, I shouldn’t be hung-over. I’ll have another glass of whatever you’re having.”

“Same wine or…”

“Your house, your rules, m’dear,” she drawled, suppressing a grin when she saw him shiver out of the corner of her eye.

Pulling another bottle of the same wine they’d been drinking from the shelf, he reluctantly let her take his arm again. Once upstairs, he motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa and went to open the bottle.

“Bottle service?” she observed after he set a silver bucket full of ice on the coffee table in front of her. Alyssa handed him her empty glass, reclining with her legs tucked up under her and her left elbow propped up on the back of the dark cloth. “Good to know you remember how to spoil a girl.”

As a renowned psychiatrist, he couldn’t help but read her body language. Open, possibly enough for sex. She wanted him to sit close. What if she tried to kiss him? He’d already flinched once… When she quickly changed her posture drastically, his heart sank a little. Eight years his junior, and she could read him like an open book from the day they met at that coffee shop. She was regretting this. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she chimed in. “You’re uncomfortable, and I don’t want to be the cause of that.”

“You came here expecting...who I used to be, and…”

“Actually, I didn’t. Like I said, I read the news, both here and in Africa.” She glanced back and forth between Frederick’s hand that rested on the cushion and his eyes, seeking permission to touch him again. When he didn’t recoil, she folded her hand over his. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through, Frederick. I’ve never known you to be anything but an attention whore, but you didn’t deserve any of this.” Tightening her grip on his hand, she looked away for a moment. “Forgive me for staying away so long?”

He let out the long, shaking breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. She was _right there_ for the first time in years. She wasn’t going to close the gap until he did. He’d avoided any unnecessary contact with other human beings ever since the fucking Tooth Fairy, but this was _her_. Her touches, no matter how fleeting or unintentional, always made his mind stop racing. They were always like a miracle drug, healing when nothing else could. Placing his wine glass on the table, he moved closer to her and nodded slowly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her nose in the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of his undoubtedly expensive aftershave. “Thank you,” she whispered against his shirt when he gently returned the gesture.

 

Two hours, another glass of wine, and a portion each of the soup she’d brought later, Alyssa looked at her watch and groaned. “As much as I’d love to stay, I shouldn’t.” She stood up and looked down regretfully at Frederick.

“Are you alright to drive?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Walking into the kitchen, she rinsed her glass and set it to the side of the sink. She pulled a pen and old gas receipt from her purse before scribbling something on the back. “This is my cell,” she announced, pressing the paper into his hand. “During the day, a text would probably be easier. After office hours, feel free to call.”

He opened his hand and marveled at the sight of her phone number. She _wanted_ him to call?

She smiled. “Let’s make it closer to two days than twenty years this time, hmm?”

“I… You want to see me again after all this time?”

Cocking an eyebrow, she put a hand on her hip. “I sent the first message, remember? If I didn’t want to see you, I wouldn’t have sent it. And if I didn’t want to see you _again_ , I wouldn’t have given you my number.”

_Touché._

“Besides, the opera opens next weekend.” After seeing him tossing his head back and forth in thought, she deliberately moved to stand so that her hips were almost touching his. “I’ve already bought my dress. Oscar de la Renta’s fall collection is particularly lovely this year.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“If you aren’t ready, I’ll save the dress.”

Frederick bit back a moan. He hadn’t been keeping up with the fashion line since the late Nineties, but he hadn’t forgotten how the designs she’d tried on hugged her curves then. True to her own assessment, he’d felt some additional weight around those curves when he’d hugged her on the sofa… He should tell her that he couldn’t go. He really should… Instead of the polite refusal he’d intended, a simple “If my tuxedo still fits, I’ll go” came out.

She hummed her pleasure as she gathered her belongings. “I’d love to have dinner before then, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He didn’t resist when she pushed past his defenses and kissed him on the cheek softly.

“Goodnight, Frederick.”

Once her car had backed out of his driveway, he shut the door hung his head. The only thing that the past two decades made him forget was the fact that Alyssa Sutton could simply bat her eyes, and he’d be at her beck and call. _Fuck_.

 

He should get his tuxedo cleaned and pressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with all my stories, I've made a YouTube playlist containing the songs I've used at the beginnings of chapters. You can view it here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjgjKHy4ofeCU0LIYQ7LZIe8Q4gV9bxsm The song for this chapter is Adele's "Hello". Honestly, I want to add her entire "25" album to this playlist. It could be the soundtrack. Jeez... Hope y'all enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray writer's block. Sorry, guys. Hopefully, I won't go this long between updates again. 
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Come Back Home" by Pete Yorn. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for any formatting errors. I'm posting this chapter from my iPad, and Google Docs + Chrome + iOS don't always cooperate for me.

**Chapter Two**

_Come back home for another year_  
And ask yourself if you could handle this  
Say my name before you disappear  
I always thought that you could handle this  
And you know you’re hard enough  
And you find you’re strong enough  
And you feel you’re strong enough...

**February 1997  
Johns Hopkins Campus**

Alyssa unbuttoned her trench coat as she entered the large library foyer. She made her way closer to the atrium, scanning the crowd for signs of Frederick. She stepped up to the counter at the coffee shop and ordered a large cup of French roast. She almost jumped out of her skin when a warm hand closed over hers, keeping her from reaching her wallet.   
  
“Make that two.”  
  
“I’d recommend not sneaking up behind people,” she sassed, watching as he slid his black American Express card to the teenager behind the counter.   
  
“Or you could just not always be facing the wrong way.” He tucked his leather wallet back into his pants pocket and took both coffees. After finding a table for the two of them, he put the cups down next to each other and pulled her chair out for her. As she shed her coat, he nodded in silent approval after catching sight of the tell-tale Burberry plaid lining. A bombshell co-ed with money? He was going to have to work harder to impress this one if he wanted to find out whether or not her breasts were real.

 

Frederick found himself sitting at the bar studying again three days later. Alyssa gave him a wink as he walked in, a good sign to be sure. A bit of wining and dining and she’d be in his bed.   
  
He shook his head when a few pieces of folded paper slid across his textbook as she walked discreetly behind him. Opening them up, he instantly recognized the study guide he’d helped Alyssa fill out over coffee...and a graded midterm exam. A midterm that had the exact same questions as the study guide but different answers on some of the questions. A midterm with a big red 98 on the top. His eyes quickly fell to the lime green PostIt note stuck to the front of the study guide.  
  
“Good thing I remembered half this shit from AP Chemistry in high school. Are you sure you don’t need help studying, Frederick?”  
  
Smart-ass even signed the note with a heart and her initials. He had half a mind to march down to the hostess stand and… But he didn’t. He stayed on his bar stool. He started to stand up, and sat right back down again. He didn’t want to thump her. If anything, he wanted to fuck her more.   
  
He didn’t typically go for brunettes...or girls with two brain cells to rub together, but at the same time… If this was foreplay, it was somehow most certainly working.

* * *

 

**Present Day  
Baltimore, Maryland**

While he could navigate his own home slowly without his cane, regrettably, Frederick Chilton needed it to get around in public. The ornate cane did give him an air of sophistication, so there was one good point.   
  
The soft jazz notes floating from the piano in the corner of the expensive restaurant made him smile as he entered. The hostess promptly directed him toward the bar when he gave his name. Mercifully, there were only four steps to climb to get to his destination…  
  
The sight that greeted him at the top of the stairs looked like a scene from a movie. The modern black bar itself was bathed in a low light. Alyssa sat a few seats down from the corner stool. With her left index finger tracing random patterns on the base of her martini glass, she rested her cheek on the back of her right hand and stared at a random point on sleek bar top. From his vantage point, he could see the corner of her lips painted the exact same shade of red as the trademark red sole of the Louboutin stilettos on her feet. He could see her long eyelashes expertly curled and as black as the leather of the same shoes and the fabric of her knee-length dress. The angle of the lighting highlighted the angle of her cheekbones (no doubt aided by a bit of well-placed bronzer).   
  
He stared for a moment before shaking his head. It’d been years since he’d been out with a woman. The last time was a few months before Gideon had turned him into a human gift basket for the Chesapeake Ripper. Alyssa hadn’t said this was a date. It could just be two old friends having dinner before going to a public function together? He could still back out of the opera opening the next night…  
  
He shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer. Using his cane carefully to avoid making more sound than necessary, Frederick made his way over to the bar. He gently placed his left hand on the small of her back, grinning widely when she stiffened and gasped. Another thing that hadn’t changed in twenty years.  
  
Turning her head to her right, Alyssa rolled her eyes upon seeing the sudden intrusion was her dining companion. “You still haven’t learned about not sneaking up on people. I told you that day at the coffee shop that I hate that.”  
  
“But I’m not here to help you study for a test you clearly don’t need help on,” he joked, climbing onto the stool next to her and ordering an expensive single malt. “But maybe if I’d taken your PostIt to heart and studied some more, I wouldn’t have changed fields…”  
  
“Maybe...maybe not,” she offered. “I know that without you changing specialities, I wouldn’t have gotten the best tan of my life reading all about ‘Hannibal the Cannibal’...”  
  
“Let’s not talk about that, shall we?”   
  
Alyssa opened her mouth to rib him for being suddenly shy, but took a sip of her martini instead. He’d been through alot in the past few years. She shouldn’t give him too hard of a time. As she realized that she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to change the subject, the hostess came to tell them that their table was ready.   
  
Frederick looked helplessly back at her, his eyes lamenting his inability to offer his arm to her like a gentleman. With his drink in one hand and his cane occupying the other…  
  
Sensing his discomfort, she turned back toward the bar and quickly finished her drink. She grabbed her clutch and faced Frederick again once certain her face had returned to normal after scrunching up at the sudden rush of vodka. She tucked her clutch under her arm and plucked his scotch from his hand. “Problem solved,” she announced triumphantly, hooking her right hand around the crook of his left elbow.   
  
“You just downed half of a martini so you could do that.” He looked down his nose at her.   
  
“I don’t live far away. I took a cab.” She slid effortlessly into the half-moon shaped booth that the hostess indicated. “Mm. Cozy.”  
  
“Do I need to get us another table?”  
  
Dismissing him with a curt wave, Alyssa’s dark eyes finally met his green ones. “It’s fine, Frederick. It really is. It’s not like we’ve never sat this close in a restaurant before.”  
  
“That was...before.”  
  
“Unless you want to change.”  
  
Frederick instinctively began looking everywhere else in the alcove of the restaurant than at Alyssa. “N-No. This’ll work.”  
  
“Only if you’re sure.” She touched his knee softly and ducked her head to look look into his eyes again. When he nodded and moved to look at the menu in front of him, she withdrew.   
  
“Any idea what’s good here?”  
  
“None. Kevin recommended it when I told him that I was looking for a place for you and I to have dinner.”  
  
He swallowed the last of his scotch, which had been more than more than he’d intended. “Kevin. Your brother that doesn’t like me knows we’re here together?”  
  
“He’s far too busy obsessing over his kids to worry about who his sister is going to dinner with.” She paused long enough for them to order an appetizer and some wine. “Besides, his little trophy wife is twelve years younger than he is.”  
  
Frederick laughed genuinely for the first time in their renewed acquaintance. “Pot meet kettle?”  
  
“That’s exactly what I told him,” she affirmed after gratefully accepting their wine from the server. Leaning a little closer with her newfound glass of Merlot in hand, Alyssa took a deep drink. “So he’s not going to threaten you at a fraternity party again.”  
  
“Considering your brother was an athlete, that was probably the scariest moment of my life up to that point.”  
  
“He’s still got this misguided savior complex. Y’know, the complex that probably led him to pediatrics.” She shook her head.   
  
“He just didn’t know his sister lost her virginity at sixteen.”  
  
“If you’d told him that two decades ago, I might not have gotten slammed into a wall.”  
  
“Oh yeah, because ‘Hey Kevin, Aaron Pauley from my fourth period trig class took my virginity in the back of his parents’ ‘72 Chevy in the school parking lot’ is an appropriate topic of conversation to have with your brother.”

 

Much to Frederick’s surprise, dinner went smoothly. Alyssa did the polite thing and avoided any topic of conversation that could lead to Hannibal Lecter or the Tooth Fairy. The conversation that did happen was a mixture of memory lane (“Remember when Mrs. Thwaite was drunk before La traviata even started that she tripped and spilled red wine all over that Valentino dress you bought me?”) and future speculation (“They’re opening Fidelio tomorrow. Hope the mezzo soprano is better than the last time.”). They kept talking long after their entrée plates had been taken away.   
  
“So I never asked,” she purred, leaning back against the cool leather of the booth with her wine glass in hand “does your tux still fit?”  
  
He split the last of the wine between their glasses. “It’s a little tighter than it used to be, but yeah.”  
  
“Good.” She smiled. “I haven’t arranged for a car yet. Should I do that or do you want to pick me up in the Jag?”  
  
The smile on his face faded. “I don’t drive anymore, not since I got shot…” Frederick’s hand instinctively went to his left cheek.  
Alyssa quickly set her glass down and scooted into his side. “I-I didn’t even think about… I’m sorry. I’ll arrange a car for us in the morning.” She took his hand and lowered it from his face. “Why don’t we settle up here and get a cab back to my place? Neither of us have anywhere to be tomorrow until the opera. After all, I think you’d really like my condo.”   
  
Naturally, he protested when she handed her credit card to the server.   
  
She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin to clear away any lingering wine stains. “It’s called alimony. Why shouldn’t my shitbag of an ex-husband pay for this dinner?” she offered with a hiccup. Downing the rest of her wine, she patted his thigh. “He slept with his receptionist while we were married. And clearly thought that my fake-blonde made me stupid. Infidelity negated the pre-nup.” She took the receipt and her card back from the server when they came back.  
  
Standing once she’d signed the slip, he took her hand. “You don’t sound too broken up about it.”  
  
“So broken up about it that I went out and bought a gaudy Mercedes the day the first check cleared.” Once outside the restaurant, she hailed a cab and sat quietly by Frederick’s side for the seven minute ride back to her condo. She guided him into the lobby of her building and up to her floor on the elevator.   
  
Stepping ahead of Alyssa into her condo, he nodded his approval as she busied herself in the kitchen.   
  
“I decorated it myself,” she boasted, handing him a glass of wine.   
  
“Straight out of those Southern Living magazines you always had lying around,” he grinned.   
  
“Exactly.” Motioning for him to join her on the insanely formal and traditional sofa, she sipped her wine slowly. “So how many people are we going to freak out tomorrow?”  
  
“They’ll certainly wonder what year it is.”  
  
“That they will. You helped me get on a few ‘Best Dressed’ lists…”  
  
“You didn’t need my help for that.” He stared down into his drink. “Well, maybe at first you did.”  
  
“I couldn’t tell the difference between an Armani suit and a Valentino when we met.”  
  
“A crime if I ever heard of one.” When she put her hand on his shoulder, he picked it up and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I heard they tried to get you on one of _The Real Housewives_ shows while you were out in California.”  
  
Alyssa laughed. “They called, yes. When I was done laughing, I told them I was a nurse, not a housewife. They hung up on me. Pity. I think I could have been friends with a few of the smarter ones.”  
  
Frederick chuckled. “I’m ashamed to say that I agree with you.”  
  
“Of course you watch _Real Housewives_ ,” she laughed, snuggling closer to his side.   
  
“When I’m bored.”  
  
“I know you, Frederick. You’ve been watching it since the debut.”  
  
“Fine.” He nuzzled her hand that was still in his as he thought about his next words. “I haven’t exactly been out much since…”  
  
“Since the fire,” she finished for him with a knowing smile. “I’ll be right with you. If you need to leave, we’ll leave. And I’ll only get frisky in the car if you want me to.”  
  
He took in a sharp breath when she rested her head on his shoulder. He’d had more intimate contact in the past few days than in the past years, apart from doctors and his extensive surgeries. One mistaken click on social media, and she’d waltzed in like he hadn’t packed up and left with only a curt explanation.   
  
“I’m so glad you’re coming with me tomorrow. My ex wasn’t exactly the artsy type. This’ll be my first opera in almost nine years.” Her smile widened. “You brought me into Baltimore society once. It’s only fitting that you’re there for my re-introduction.”  
  
“I’m too old to steal you away from the party…”  
  
“...pull me into a bathroom and almost ruin a three thousand dollar Carolina Herrera dress? Probably for the best. That car accident I mentioned?” At his nod, she shrugged. “I’m not quite as flexible as I used to be.”


	4. Chapter Three

_ But how do you thank someone _

_ Who has taken you from crayons to perfume? _

_ It isn't easy, but I'll try... _

 

**March 1997**

**Johns Hopkins Campus**

“Lys, there was a garment bag waiting for you downstairs at the dorm desk. Brought it up for you,” Alyssa’s roommate, Amy, informed without looking up from her homework. 

Alyssa raised an eyebrow as she put her backpack down on her small dorm bed. “A  _ garment bag _ ?”

“Yeah. It’s hanging in your side of the closet.”

She slid the dark brown closet door open and found the long, black bag hanging just where she’d been told to look for it. Unpinning a parchment envelope from the zipper, she produced a brief note.

“ _ Miss Sutton, _

_ Thank you for agreeing to accompany me to the Symphony Benefit tomorrow night. You do me a great service. As you will be seated at one of the V.I.P. tables with my family and I, I took the liberty of ensuring that your first outing in Baltimore society is one to remember.  _

_ Please consider the dress and shoes my gift to you. Unfortunately, the earrings are on loan. I will need those back. I’ll pick you up at six. _

_ Regards, _

_ F. Chilton _ ”

 

The next evening, Alyssa found herself standing outside her dorm in a red, three thousand dollar Carolina Herrera dress and black Manolo Blahnik pumps. Checking her makeup in the small compact, she sighed. 6:05 pm. She shoved the compact back into her clutch. She let out a sigh of relief when a black limousine pulled up. “Thank god.”

“There was traffic. I’m sorry,” Frederick apologized after the driver closed the door behind her. He smiled, taking in the sight of his excellent choice of dress. The red floor-length dress clung to Alyssa’s body like a glove. The neckline hid more of her chest than he’d prefer, but the occasion demanded a more conservative silhouette. “Were you waiting long?”

“Only a few minutes.” She nervously put her hand on his right knee, her fingers curling around to his inner thigh. “You didn’t have to buy the dress, Frederick,” she whispered. “It’s too much.”

Pushing a long curl over her left shoulder, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck behind her ear. A wolfish grin spread across his mouth when she shuddered. “First impressions are important. Just walk in there like you’re an heiress they should know…”

She turned her head so quickly that she smacked herself in the face with one of the diamond drop earrings. “I  _ am _ an heiress,” she pouted. Grabbing one of the rocks glasses, she dropped a few ice cubes in it and poured herself a double scotch. “It’s not my fault their money’s arthritic and mine’s from Silicon Valley.”

“It’s not, but this is Baltimore. They’re awfully traditional about that kind of thing up here. ‘New’ is a threat to the status quo. They think you spend your money on Lamborghinis and have no class.”

“I’ll drink white wine at the event and keep my smellin’ salts nearby,” Alyssa goaded before knocking back a good portion of her scotch. 

“White wine is fine. But the instant you fake ‘smelling salts’...”

“You’ll what, Frederick?” she inquired, her voice suddenly turning husky. 

“Keep at it, and you’ll find out.”

She placed her glass down gently next to the scotch bottle and brought the back of her hand into contact with her forehead, swooning dramatically and falling against him. 

Grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her into his lap and attached his lips to hers. 

Her breathless laugh was cut short when his lips were replaced by the back strap of his bow tie between her teeth. She dug her nails into the back of his neck and moaned as he hiked up the skirt of the expensive gown, pushed her panties aside, and pressed two fingers inside of her. 

“We’ll be at the venue in approximately three minutes, Mister Chilton,” the chauffeur announced nonchalantly, almost as if this weren’t his first time doing this. 

Frederick withdrew his fingers abruptly and snatched his bowtie back. Once she’d climbed off of him, he made a show of cleaning his fingers with his tongue. “We’ll get a drink and say hello to a few people.” He looked at his watch. “And in exactly thirty-seven minutes, you’ll meet me in the first floor men’s room.”

“Only if you finish what you started.”

Leaning in, he kissed her again. “And then some.”

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“This is my stop,” Frederick sighed, loosening his tie as the limousine pulled up outside his house. 

“Want me to walk you to your door?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the gentleman’s job?”

“I’m the one dropping you off.”

“I’d invite you in, but your ride wouldn’t wait.”

Alyssa climbed out of the car behind her date for the evening and walked to the driver’s window. After giving him new instructions, she tucked her clutch under her arm, gathered up the heavy skirt of her gown, and jogged to catch up with Frederick. “I’ll call an Uber. I’m not quite ready to go home yet.”

_ She never was ready for the night to end.  _ After unlocking his front door, he led her inside. “Drink?”

Still holding the skirt of her elaborate Oscar de la Renta gown, she kicked off her stilettos just inside his front door and laid her clutch down on the first available countertop. “Of course,” she purred, releasing her long blonde hair from the pins holding it in place. “Sauvignon Blanc sounds good tonight. I trust you have something good in your cellar?”

“Of course I do.” Dropping his tuxedo jacket onto the island in the kitchen, he held out his hand for her. Sure, they’d been apart for almost two decades until the week before, but the feeling of her hand in his was simply intoxicating. He smiled when the taffeta train of her dress rustled against the stairs down to his basement. 

“You know,” she began when he opened the door to the glass-enclosed wine cellar “we could revert to form and see just how many bottles of wine we could consume in a night. “It’s not like you and I have anywhere to be tomorrow.”

Frederick shrugged. “I suppose we could, but you’re in…”

“...a twelve-thousand dollar dress?” Her hand closed around his before it could reach the desired bottle of wine. “Like it’d be the first time I walked around your place at two in the morning wearing only one of your Armani shirts with the French cuffs and a pair of shorts.”

He reached up and grabbed two bottles of the same vintage Sauvignon Blanc. “I’m not the same person…”

“...as you were twenty years ago? Yes, I know. You’ve told me. And I’m not the same person, either. But we have wine, hindsight, and years worth of bad choices to talk about.” Alyssa grabbed one of the bottles and tore the foil with the corner of her acrylic pinky nail as they walked up the stairs. 

“And what bad choices did you make?” he inquired, taking the bottle from her, removing the cork, and pouring two glasses before putting the second bottle in the fridge.

“A lot, actually. I married the visiting plastic surgeon from Beverly Hills to get my family off my back.” She downed most of her glass of white wine, closing her eyes when the cool drink joined forces with the rest of the evening’s libations. The champagne and previous three glasses of wine over the course of the opera opening were finally hitting her. She and Frederick had been back in each other’s lives for a matter of days...and she was about to burst at the seams to tell him everything just like the old days. For two people that weren’t in a formal relationship, they’d certainly forgotten to act like it. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” he offered at the sight of tears welling up in her eyes. Grabbing both of their glasses, he led her into the living room. “I know it’s been a while, but if I can help, you know I will.”

She sat down on the grey sofa heavily, suddenly drowning in a sea of taffeta and crinoline. “What’s done is done. There isn’t anything you can do. But let’s not dwell on me.” She dried her eyes carefully to avoid messing up her false eyelashes. “I’d much rather talk about how much I’ve missed seeing you in a tuxedo. I was really struggling with keeping my promise to not jump your bones in the car.”

He looked away, and his mouth twisted up into a sad smile. “If we’d found each other again a year ago, I promise you, that dress would have been wrinkled beyond repair before we were out of my driveway.”

Any lingering sadness on Alyssa’s face melted into a predatory grin. “Would you have gagged me with your bow tie again? I rather enjoyed it last time.”

Frederick squeezed his eyes shut in frustration as his fingers sprang up to keep her lips from meeting his. “Lys,” he began, slipping back into the shortened version of her name he always used to use. “I can’t.”

“You can’t kiss me?”

“It’s not just that. You wouldn’t want to kiss me if you… I’ve got more makeup on than you do. If you saw me without it…”

She used the towel around the chilled wine bottle to wipe away the condensation from the bottle and handed the damp cotton to him. “Try me.”

He looked at her, his eyes pleading with her not to have to do this. Reluctantly, he took the towel and ran it over his face several times. When he finished removing the makeup, he took out his left contact lens and the plate from his left cheek. “Look,” he commanded with slurred speech as he tossed his wig onto the coffee table. “This is what you wanted to see, after all. Hannibal is the one that eats people, but I’m the one that looks like a monster. I am my own Halloween costume.”

Inching closer to him, she adjusted the massive skirt of her dress so she could get up on her knees. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew him in for a hug. “Would you believe me if I said I still want to kiss you?”

“No.”

Backing away, she sat back down. “Well, it’s true. It’s going to take a lot more than some scars to scare me away.”

“Why?” he asked after putting the plate and contact lens back into place. 

“Remember that time you took me to New York for my birthday?”

Frederick nodded at the mention of the memory. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We missed  _ Les Mis _ because you just had to go and look so damn good I couldn’t keep my hands off of you.”

“Your hands...mouth…” She laughed. “I realized I was in love with you that weekend.”

“You never said…”

“We agreed on ‘no strings attached’. I didn’t want to risk losing you. Maybe if I’d opened my mouth, you wouldn’t have left. Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted some of the best years of my life married to that cheating bastard…”

“And now?”

“Do I still love you? Lemme check.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his before he could ask what she meant. 

He went ramrod straight from shock, his eyes wide open. His heart was beating in his ears.  _ This is Alyssa. This is Alyssa.  _ After a few seconds of repeating his reassuring mantra about the identity of the person currently attached to his lips, he rested one hand on her bare back and tangled the other in the blonde curls at the base of her skull...and returned the kiss. “Well?” he whispered when she broke the kiss for air. 

“It’s going to take a lot more than you turning into the Phantom of the fucking Opera for me to stop loving you.” Alyssa kissed the tip of his nose and quickly stood up. “Now if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to borrow the shirt and shorts now.”

“Anything you want.” He motioned for her to head up the stairs. When she turned away and began walking toward the stairs, he let out a quiet sigh of relief...and a few tears. 

Hannibal once told him “Fate has a habit of not letting us choose our own ending” from the wrong side of a cell wall. To hell with fate. To hell with Hannibal Lecter. He told her to look, and she gave back love. He was going to choose his own ending, and the angel in the backless dress walking up his stairs was it, he decided. He put the wig back on, grabbed the bottle of wine, and followed her upstairs. 

 

Frederick woke with a start the next morning when Alyssa shook him awake. Despite their conversation the night before (that went on until five in the morning), he found himself still shocked that she’d stayed. But he wasn’t going to turn it down, especially with her wearing nothing but lacy underwear and one of his light blue button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. 

“C’mon. I made waffles,” she announced, pulling him out of the bed. 

_ Yeah. _ He could see himself falling in love with her  _ again _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away for so long, y'all. Life and all that jazz. I'm so glad you're sticking with me, though.
> 
> Couple notes. 
> 
> The "PRESENT DAY" portion of this chapter was originally written and submitted for drgaybelgideon's ABC's of Chilton Challenge. I'd already planned that part, but found a way to make it fit with the challenge. And now you have the rest of it.
> 
> The song for this chapter is Lulu's "To Sir, with Love", and the playlist is here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjgjKHy4ofeCU0LIYQ7LZIe8Q4gV9bxsm
> 
> So with the advent of that Hannibal prop auction, I have seen the back of the "Hannibal the Cannibal" book. Yes. It says Chilton went to Harvard. Being as how I started this story long before I knew this tidbit, I'm just going to leave it the way it is. There's too much stuff I'd have to change.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember how this idea came to me, but I'm pretty sure it involved drunk!me (as do all great ideas). But I do know there was this mental image of Chilton creeping on co-eds was involved. I'm going off of what the Hannibal show runners have said they used as background for Chilton (Wikipedia). There will be both present day and flashback bits, because reasons. Bear with me. I'm still trying to figure out this story.


End file.
